Sunday, May 10, 2020

A taxi ride with The Stranglers' Dave Greenfield

Dave Greenfield: at the heart of The Stranglers' sound
(Photograph by Stranglers French Forum)
Thirty-four summers ago, Dave Greenfield climbed into the back of a former London taxi for a short ride to a disused quarry lake in Cambridgeshire. The man at the heart of The Stranglers' sound carried a shoulder travel bag - an ever-present accessory, the contents of which followers of the band have forever guessed at.

It was a tight squeeze in the taxi. Greenfield rested his enigmatic bag on his lap. I gazed at the bag and wondered if perhaps it contained one of his many pet rats, the rodent synonymous with the band since their debut album Rattus Norvegicus nine years earlier.

But no question was asked. What else was a teenager, awed by the presence and aura of mystique of the musical mistro to do? Besides, there was work at hand to build and test a bathtub boat, an enterprise led by fellow Stranglers member Jean-Jacques Burnel. That pursuit would culminate at the World Bathtub Racing Championships in the south of France later that summer. That was why I was there. Greenfield, who lived nearby, had put in a surprise appearance to observe and lend support.

The taxi ride lasted only a couple of minutes, and then we piled out and set to work on the Ravenlunatic bathtub boat. Greenfield watched from the grassy bank.

I thought back to that day when, a week ago, news broke that Greenfield had died at 71, having contracted Covid-19 while in hospital. A few months earlier he had completed a tour of Australia and New Zealand with The Stranglers.

He was the keyboard player and an occasional vocalist. Along with Hugh Cornwell, Jet Black, and the aforementioned Burnel, he made up the classic original line-up of The Stranglers that was responsible for memorable hits in the Seventies and Eighties, such as No More Heroes, Peaches, Strange Little Girl, Always the Sun, and Golden Brown. Indeed, it was Greenfield who was central in creating the latter. He had continually offered up the waltztime tune at rehearsals only for it to be rejected, until the day came that it was used as the framework for the No.2 chart hit that was the band's greatest success.

Greenfield's distinctive keyboard playing and the sound of Burnel's bass are arguably the defining motif of the band through their career that now spans 46 years.

A year before the taxi ride, The Stranglers played a concert at the Music Hall in Utrecht, Netherlands. In the hours leading up to the concert, I stood at the entrance to the locked venue, listening to the band's soundcheck echo through the empty corridors and halls within. An instrumental run-through of the track Let Me Down Easy - a touching lament on life and death - was haunting and beautiful that early evening, accentuating the keyboard skills of Greenfield.

The Stranglers' music has been part of my life for more than 42 years. I've seen them more than 20 times in concert, across four decades. My first piece of printed journalism was a concert review of their Brixton Academy show in 1989, which helped land me a newspaper staff job the following year.

In September 2001, a three-day Stranglers Convention was held, with the band and many of their supporters taking over Pontins Leisure Centre at Brean Down, Somerset, for a weekend of live shows, quizzes, Q&As, and a five-a-side football contest.
On the first evening, my best pal Rob and I walked into the campus restaurant/bar, The Queen Victoria, and saw Greenfield sitting at a table near the door. Much has been written about his approachable nature, and that evening he was happily engaged in a group conversation around drinks with some fans. We decided to head elsewhere where we later renewed our "bathtub race team" friendship with Burnel. We'd hoped to speak with Greenfield on the way out, but by then he had gone.

Beyond those two brief moments - in the taxi, and at Pontins - my memories of Greenfield are all from the many shows I attended - including the London Roundhouse in 2007 when Greenfield's keyboards malfunctioned, causing the band to restart four times - including a complete relaunch of the gig that was at that stage more than half-an-hour into the set.

Greenfield shone on so many of The Stranglers' finest work, memorably on Down in the Sewer, Genetix, Waltzinblack and their cover of Walk on By.

The Stranglers' career can be sliced into three distinct eras, defined by the coming and going of lead singers Cornwell, Paul Roberts and incumbent Baz Warne. Each era came with its own idiosyncrasies, nostalgia and memories. But through them all Greenfield, Burnel and Black were the group's mainstays. Ill health forced Black to step away from all touring about five years ago.

Life can be said to be like a taxi ride. We are passengers, getting on and off at different points, not too sure where it started or where it is going. But the things we love, the friends, the music, the experiences; they are all part of the ride.
A quote attributed to John Lennon goes: "I'm not afraid of death because I don't believe in it. It's just getting out of one car, and into another."

Dave Greenfield has now left the taxi.
Fond adieu, Dave. Fly straight.

Online video tribute to Dave Greenfield (music Golden Brown):

Sunday, March 1, 2020

Why silence is so important

Stop the noise: silence is important when trying to reflect,
engage deep-thinking, thoughts and creativity
It's increasingly difficult to find peace and quiet in today's world. So how does constant noise impact on our wellbeing, our thoughts, creativity and temperament?

I treasure silence. It is the best situation for me when gathering deep thoughts, reflections, or projecting ideas. It's as though the brain is a computer, with a special short-term memory function - a RAM [random access memory] if you will - for such immediate tasks as critical thinking and creativity. But this RAM is vulnerable to interference from outside distractions - the sounds of voices, commotion, and barking dogs, to name a few that result in a diminished capacity to conjure and hold thoughts and to build on them.

Silence does not mean a complete, deadening void. Ambient sounds such as the wind through the air or moving over branches and leaves, or the beat of rolling ocean waves, and even the murmur of indistinct faraway voices are forms of "white noise" and generally a nonintrusive backdrop to the peace needed for deep thought and reflection.

In this world of constant motion and noise, that art of reflection so needed to make sense of who we are, and what things mean for our lives and emotions, is increasingly crowded out.

Where we are heading? At the end of the day you might escape the disruptive noises of the workplace only to find the neighbourhood bliss is no more. It has been replaced by a minefield of pet animal calls and frustrated squeals, garden machinery and the sound of traffic.

Oh for the sounds of nature, the chirp of birds, the soulful swish of the wind, and the chance to reflect deeply on this journey we call life.

So if you have them, guard those secret places of silence and solitude, and treasure their redemptive and energising qualities.

Sunday, February 16, 2020

Measuring the march of time's footsteps

Twenty-five years ago: city lights from a viewpoint
Is it really 25 years since we lived and studied together beneath blue skies and crimson and mauve sunsets?

Is it a quarter of a century since we shared those concrete sidewalks, bus journeys to college, visits to the beach, to hangouts, and to viewpoints overlooking the twinkling lights of a city sprawled across two valleys?

Twenty-five summers have come and gone, and 25 autumns, winters and springs, since our tight-knit group, transplanted to a foreign land, shared a bond that would stay with us for ever.

Though we have gone our separate ways, and not all of us are here today, those sweetest days live on in our thoughts. And in the memory of the world, for I am sure it has such.

Time passes, yes. But stretched across 25 years, the march of its footsteps are so far apart we do not always hear them until we stop and listen.

A plane soars, its tail fin livery redesigned from a quarter of a century ago, like all the others; generational changes an echo of time's deep footsteps.

And so, 25 summers, autumns, winters and springs have passed.

Who would not yearn to do it all again? But to have done it once is a treasure indeed.

Monday, January 6, 2020

Not a classic, but Star Wars finale is fun

Busy movie: JJ Abrams managed to fashion a
mostly believable conclusion to the Star Wars saga
The Skywalker saga is over. The 42-year cinematic odyssey that had some soaringly high points and a few equally low moments, has ended in an acceptable fashion with Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker.

But it will leave some fans of the original films lamenting what might have been had this sequel trilogy been thoughtfully planned out.

In places, The Rise of Skywalker has sparks of emotional connection that were lacking in the previous film in the trilogy. Interestingly, director JJ Abrams has made this film mostly leap over the divisive The Last Jedi, and act as a sequel to his episode 7, The Force Awakens.
For the most part you can watch this without having even seen The Last Jedi, which will be a bonus for many people.

What else did we learn from this film? Well, it seems tossing the lightsabre is now a thing, and possibly a future Olympic sport.

The humour is more in line with the classic Star Wars films, although in some places is misplaced. For instance, a jolting moment comes when Poe and Rey engage in a conversational joust that is annoyingly out of place and petty. It comes after the Millennium Falcon returns to base and, given the gravity of the story at that point, would they really be arguing about who got the spaceship or droid damaged the most?

At its core, The Rise of Skywalker is a return to the simplistic, formulaic Saturday morning science fiction shorts of the 1930s, think Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers, that lent much to the genesis of the original Star Wars trilogy. And there is a charm in that.

If you go into the theatre with lowered expectations, you'll likely to be pleasantly surprised. That's hardly a ringing endorsement, but after the train wreck of The Last Jedi it says much.

Following the story-telling void of its predecessor, Abrams somehow manages to concoct a believable, if at times contrived, story arc within the film's 2 hours and 25 minutes' running time. It's cluttered and moves at such breakneck speed it is impossible to take in everything, or savour moments that deserve more.

This lack of finesse highlights the folly of Disney's handling of such a premier intellectual property. The studio allowed the concluding trilogy to be made without first having a mapped out, overarching storyline for the three movies. As such, there are plot points in The Rise of Skywalker that would have been bettered served in the previous film, rather than shoehorned into this finale.

However, back to the good things about The Rise of Skywalker. The actors appear more natural, comfortable and real, although for the newer generation there is still very little buy-in that would make audiences overly concerned about their stories or fates.
The character of Rey, played by Daisy Ridley, shows a touch more believability and emotion. Adam Driver, as Kylo, is the strongest main character, as he has been for the trilogy.

The late Carrie Fisher returns as Leia. Her part is adequately done considering the constrains of having to rely solely on footage and outtakes from previous movies. We are left to imagine how much more satisfying it would have been had she still been with us.

Mark Hamill's portrayal of Luke, while marginal in the film, does provide the most emotionally satisfying moments. His character is one of the film industry's greatest heroes, and he receives the redemption and explanation needed in the wake of The Last Jedi.
There is still a sense of mystery about his lost years from Return of the Jedi to The Last Jedi - and in the hands of a skilled writer and director a spin-off "latter days" Skywalker movie could fill the gaps and ultimately add important background context to this final trilogy. Disney, feel free to call.

In conclusion, 3.5 out of 5 for the movie, but full marks to Abrams for the ending scene.

VIDEO: The final trailer for The Rise of Skywalker.

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Music from the '80s still rules at airports

That 1980s vibe: Hollywood-Burbank 'Bob Hope' Airport is among
the airports where music from the Eighties holds sway
At airports I tend to notice the background music (or muzak) that is being piped through the sound system. Increasingly, those ambient sounds are songs from the 1980s, with perhaps the odd one or two from the decades either side of the Eighties.

So what gives? Why does music from the 1980s hold sway in airport departure terminals. What is it about that era that continues to see its songs given preference in such settings?

It could be that many of the people passing through the terminal will identify with the music they personally experienced earlier in their lives. But that theory only holds true for so many travellers, there are plenty of others using the airports who belong to a generation untouched by the Eighties.

I say it has to do with the clarity, simplicity and feel-good combination of the songs. That is what those providing the background music are seeking to provide travellers -  unobtrusive tunes that float around on the periphery of most people's hearing. In addition, for some folk the songs will bring a touch of reminiscence for times past and happy memories.

As a lover of music I enjoy tuning-in to any background melodies. At airports I have particularly noticed the 1980s musical playlists at Hollywood-Burbank 'Bob Hope' Airport, JFK International Airport in New York, and Boston Logan International Airport.

It's not only airports; shopping malls are another venue that often delve into the tunes from the Eighties. What does this say about music? Were the 1980s truly the peak years for timeless, enjoyable mood and ear-friendly music?

Who knows, but I like it.

Saturday, December 7, 2019

Ballad from Haim has timeless quality

Modern classic: Alana Haim takes centre stage for the final verse of the
song Halleljuh, flanked by her older sisters Danielle and Este
If there's one song from 2019 that will be remembered long after the curtain falls on New Year's Eve, it must surely be the newly-released lilting ballad from Haim.

Alana Haim begins the third and final verse of Hallelujah with these poignant words: "I had a best friend but she has come to pass, one I wish I could see now."

It is a song that evokes the style of Simon & Garfunkel, and Fleetwood Mac. However, it carries a charm and resonance of its own and the hallmarks of the timeless classic it is likely to become.

Musically, the stripped-down song is mostly confined to the acoustic guitar picking of Danielle Haim, who also does the largest portion of the singing, although the third and eldest of the Haim sisters, Este, delivers the second verse.

It is the blend of clean harmonies, clear voices and acoustic treatment that so effectively creates this moving ballad. Alana's heartfelt lyrics and the mood of the song are unencumbered by any distractions.

I'll say no more about the song, because it is something that will hold different meanings for each listener, and it springs from a personal story from Alana's life, which she has shared on social media. I have included a link and a copy of the story - in her own words - at the bottom of this blog post.

However, I recommend that before delving into the song's background you listen to it fresh, and let your own thoughts be moved by the mood and sentiments.

Enjoy also this remarkable video, made by talented and multi-Oscar nominated filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson. I love the closing scene where Danielle walks from the cinema, with Este in the ticket sales box, and Alana fixes the signage above.

The video for Haim's Hallelujah:


Below is the tweet from Haim (pronounced HY-im), written by Alana, and including her telling of the background to the song and the loss of her best friend.

As I previously mentioned, the song has such graceful power I recommend listening to it first, and possibly many times over, before reading on to learn the genesis of the lyrics in Alana's own words.


For ease of reading, here are Alana's words from the twitter images:
It’s a song about family, love, loss, and being thankful for it all. It’s hard to talk about my verse in the song but I wanted to open up about it so here i go…
I went through a really dark time when I was 20. I woke up on a hazy October morning to find out that my best friend, Sammi Kane Kraft, had passed away in a tragic car accident. It was a loss that changed my life forever.
Sammi was my everything, and coming to terms with the fact that she wasn’t here, that I couldn’t call her, I couldn’t hug her, I would never see her bright smile and sparkling eyes ever again broke me.
It’s strange but I started thinking about all the milestones in my life that she would never be a part of – like us wanting to celebrate our 21st birthdays in Vegas, or planning all the festivals we wanted to go to around the world, or knowing that when I walk down the aisle at some point she won’t be standing next to me as my maid of honor.
I had always wanted to pay tribute to her in some way and I could never put how important she was into words. It felt like there were no words in the dictionary to encapsulate how special she was. Losing her put a lot of things in to perspective for me. I was so lucky to have my sisters at this time in my life.
There was a point where they didn’t know what to do or say or how to help and them just being there as a shoulder to cry on or as an ear to talk to got me to slowly recover. I’m not the same, I’ll never be the same. The me before took love, friends and family for granted. Now there won’t be a day that goes by where I don’t tell everyone I love how special they are to me.
Though I miss her everyday I know she’s still here sending me little messages, little signs everywhere I go. I always look up and go I hear ya Sammi Sam! Love love love love love you too

Sunday, December 1, 2019

No need to cuss, Del Rey's album elevates

Supersized: Lana Del Rey appears as a giant in the video for Doin' Time.
The video is part homage to Attack of the 50ft Woman.
Don't go looking for wall-to-wall sweetness and light on Lana Del Rey's latest album, because you won't find it.

Yes, she is one of the most talented and significant singer-songwriters of her generation, and her star continues to rise with increasingly accomplished work. She's written and recorded achingly beautiful songs, some are on her latest release - one of the best albums of the year. And I will speak about these in a moment.

However, on first listening to Norman F***** Rockwell, which was released in September, I felt she'd overplayed the cussing. The title track is one of five from 14 that contain choice language. That's excessive in a world where the impact of f-bombs has been hugely diluted through overuse.

Is cussing a sign of the times? I was in an airport terminal bookstore recently and encountered multiple shelves of new releases featuring bold titles yelling things like "Get Your S*** Together" and "Stop F****** up in Life." As always, I studiously ignored them.

But back to Del Rey. On repeated listens I've come to enjoy all the tracks on NFR (as it was craftily titled in the store where I bought it). However, she would have been better served limiting the cuss-word impact. The track where the strong language works best is Hope is a Dangerous Thing for a Woman Like Me to Have - but I Have It, which includes a nod to Sylvia Plath. The mood and content is enhanced by the fearless expression of the lyrics.

Now for the other standout songs to which I alluded. The bulk are in the second-half of the album, although earlier on is Doin' Time, a rare cover version. It suits Del Rey's treatment, and presents her in a switched-up tempo and vocalisation that breaks away from much of the surrounding songs. An imaginative accompanying video for the song pays homage to the cult 1950s movie Attack of the 50ft Woman, and features a giant Del Rey walking through the streets of Los Angeles.

California is a song of relationship and longing, and an example of Del Rey's ability to evoke a sense of place and time, while The Next Best American Record is dreamy and timeless, with sound motifs that harken to the delightfully elegant Love from 2017's Lust for Life.

Another interesting song is Happiness is a Butterfly. You try to catch happiness, but like a butterfly it can elude.

But the best track of the album, that would be The Greatest. It has a haunting, melancholy appeal. The subdued feel nails the sentiments of lyrics such as: the culture is lit ... if this is it, I'm signing off ... the greatest loss of them all. The video for this track is also remarkable.

Norman F***** Rockwell is a new high point for Del Rey, with plenty to elevate the spirit. That said, I sense her best is yet to come.

Video of The Greatest: